“Definitely,” Hart replied. “Val Hart, by the way.”
Ray grinned, showing his ghoul teeth, sharpened rows on both the top and the bottom. “I figured,” he replied cheerfully. “Given Elliot said Seth would be showing up with an elf. You grew up with him, he said?”
“I did, yeah,” Hart replied.
“And you live in Richmond now? Work for the FBI?”
“Yep.”
“So are the feds looking into Sarah’s murder, now?”
“Trying to,” came Hart’s reply. “Why, you know something?”
“Not specifically,” came the response. “But I’ll tell you what I do know once you’ve got free hands and have seen for yourself that your badger is still in one piece.”
“Great,” came Hart’s relieved response.
“He’s in the barn, but you’ll both be wanting a shower and some food—so I’ll bring him in.”
“He’s staying in the barn?” I asked, surprised. Helen and Ray had both seemed totally comfortable having us in their home.
“That way if the cops show up, he’s not in the house, and they won’t be able to smell him having recently been there for a length of time.”
I frowned. “Smell him?”
“At least one of the deputies is a shifter,” Hart replied.
Ray snorted, but didn’t say anything.
I turned my head sharply to look at Hart. “Seriously?”
“You didn’t notice? Didn’t smellhim?” Hart asked.
“I must not have met that one,” I replied, trying to think back. “But they knewIwas a shifter, so they might have deliberately kept him away from me.”
“Possible,” Hart agreed. “There’s something seriously fucked up about this whole case.”
“Do tell,” I grumbled.
“Oh, believe me, I have things to tell,” the elf muttered darkly. “And the people who are going to hear them are going to include Internal Affairs, a federal board, and at least one judge and jury.”
Helen had fussedover me audibly, then herded both Hart and I into separate bathrooms—Hart to a bathroom upstairs, me tothe one adjacent to the master bedroom on the ground floor in back so nobody had to try to help me up the stairs.
When I’d first fallen, I’d thought the injury wasn’tthatbad—that it was a strain, maybe a mild sprain. That with Hart’s help, I’d be able to walk it out. I’d been wrong. Peeling my muddy and wet jeans off my leg, I could see that my knee was swelling and starting to bruise.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. I left the muddy clothes in the plastic laundry basket Helen had given me with the promise that she’d wash both my clothes and Hart’s. She’d also left me a pair of Roy’s sweatpants and a t-shirt. Both would be too small, but it was better than waiting naked for her to finish doing the laundry.
I very, very carefully climbed over the edge of the tub, then pushed myself to my one working leg to shower, wincing as the hot water hit the scrapes on my knee and hand. I washed out the injuries, hissing, then tried to towel myself off quickly, swearing again at the pain in my knee as I struggled to pull on the too-small sweatpants.
I got myself dressed, then started trying to plan my path out of the bathroom, trying to figure out how much damage I would do to both myself and the bathroom if I tried to hop my way to the door.
I was just about to push myself up to try when my plans were interrupted by a knock.
“Yeah?”
“Can I help, baby?”
I wanted to sound nonchalant. Or at least like I wasn’t a complete emotional wreck. Given how much my voice cracked when I answered him, I don’t think I succeeded. “Yes.”
